Young Goodfellas
by WyldElyn
Summary: Six young teenagers are being trained to take over for "The League", the largest mobster families in American history, but find their once easy lives thrown into chaos when ancient grudges are resurrected. 1930's Mafia AU. Rated T! Fill for the YJ Anon Meme and all chapters revised.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a story originally prompted on the YJ Anon Meme. While I'm no longer a part of that community, though it was a fun run, I plan to continue this story, though I'm slowly going through the rewriting much of the posted chapters, since it's been nearly a year since I've worked on this. With the exception of a few revisions and alterations, the current story will remain overall the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any of the character interpretations or locations exclusive to the DC and/or Earth-16 universe. They are the property of DC Comics and their respective creators.

~~.~~

_Gotham City_

_August 7th, 1928_

7:54...

8:33...

9:16...

By the time 9:40 p.m. rolled around, Dick Grayson's patience had long since run out and he didn't bother suppressing his loud sigh of annoyance. Bruce Wayne, his adoptive father and mentor had been locked in his office for hours now, having a long and deep discussion with his long-time friend and "business associate", Oliver Queen, head of the Queen Industries in Star City, and also head of his family.

Dick usually liked Oliver; he was a decent man, pretty laid-back and cheerful compared to the stoic, intimidating figure that was Bruce Wayne, but only along as you stayed on Oliver's good side, of course. But Oliver's current situation was taking up a lot of Bruce's time, and that was time that he should have been spending with Dick, molding him as his son and heir.

But Dick still felt some sympathy for the head of the Queen family. Roy Harper, Oliver's adopted son, had walked out on the man only a few days before. Dick had only heard bits and pieces of the topic floating around; one rumor was that Oliver and his actions weren't as notorious in their home city as Roy would have liked, while other rumors said that Oliver had thrown Roy out himself, though the reasoning behind why he would have done that was unknown.

Either way, the fact remained that Roy wasn't there to accompany Oliver to these meetings, and so Dick had no one to keep himself entertained while the meeting droned on. He couldn't even wander off to the city and have some fun; at thirteen-years-old he was still too young, and Bruce wanted him nearby in case he needed him to run a late-night errand.

Feeling his left leg starting to fall asleep, Dick shifted into a more comfortable position on the leather-bound armchair with another sigh, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of the rain beating against the large glass windows on the opposite wall. Maybe a quick nap wouldn't hurt...

"You as bored as you look?"

In an instant Dick had leaped onto his feet at the sound of the foreign voice, his sense on full-alert. He whirled around, a long switchblade ready in hand, only to find himself staring into the barrel of a Walther PPK .380 handgun, and on the other end of that gun was a young woman, probably only a couple of years older than himself.

Dick narrowed his eyes as he took in as many quick details as he could; she definitely had some Asian heritage, judging by her almond-shaped eyes and darker skin tone. Vietnamese, if he had to guess, though she had a ridiculously long mane of yellow hair tied into a neat ponytail behind her.

Even through her suit Dick could tell that she had all the feminine curves that would keep the attention of a boy his age, but the obvious confidence in her posture - in addition to the gun she had pointed at his forehead - told him that she was not one to be taken lightly.

Beautiful, fierce, and stealthy. The girl was a fox.

"Nice reflexes, kid," she chuckled, recapturing Dick's focus, "But if we were enemies, your brains would be on the wall right now." Dick frowned, closing his switchblade and sliding it back into the inner pocket of his trousers. He was a little annoyed that she'd managed to sneak up on him, though he had to admit he was also impressed. There weren't many people in the city of Gotham that had the nerve to look him in the eye, let alone call him "kid" to his face. Everyone on the streets, from the homeless bums to the corrupt politicians, knew who he was; Dick Grayson, the ward of Bruce Wayne and successor to Wayne Enterprises.

But if she was standing in the den of Wayne Manor, then she surely knew who he was even without the social elite surrounding him; Successor of the Gotham family, known to many on the streets as "The Robin". Not as well-named as some he'd heard, like the "Kid Flash" of the Central City Family, who was fast enough to slit a man's throat before anyone realized he was armed.

But Dick earned the name after it was said he was capable of "robbin' a man blind".

A rumor which was true, of course. Dick's skills in the art of stealth was outmatched only by Bruce Wayne himself, who was often called "the Bat" by the other heads of the associate families. But whoever this blonde gal was, she had to be pretty damned good to sneak up on him in his own home. Dick wasn't sure if he liked that or not.

"Dick Grayson," he said at length, extending a hand towards the girl. She smiled, and the sudden humor that flashed in her dark eyes made Dick realize that his introduction was pointless. So he was right in his assumption that she already knew who he was.

"Artemis Crock," she replied, taking his hand and shaking it, "I figured we should meet, since your dad has been chewing my uncle out for the last couple of hours."

"Oliver Queen's your uncle?" Dick asked, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity and a little skepticism, "Roy's never mentioned you to me before."

"My mom's never really liked uncle Ollie, so for a long time I didn't know him or his kids," Artemis replied curtly, "But since that pissy cousin of mine just quit the family business, I'm the one stuck looking after that idiot now."

Once again, Dick found himself impressed. He'd seen people getting a bullet between the eyes for just raising their voices at Oliver Queen whenever he got into one of his "moods", yet here Artemis was, talking about her uncle like he was a petulant child she'd been saddled with, rather than the boss of one of the seven largest and most dangerous mobster families in America.

He decided then that he liked this Artemis Crock after all. But like with her uncle, it was probably in his best interest to stay on her good side.

~.~

_Gotham City_

_November 18th, 1932_

"Has he said anything yet Artemis?" Dick called from the hallway of the warehouse they were currently stand in, an unlit cigarette lightly bobbing on his lips. Artemis sighed as she walked out of a dimly lit room nearby, the front of her favorite button-down green vest speckled with droplets of blood. As she started to shut the door behind her, Dick peeked into the room and caught a glimpse of a nearly-unconscious man laying facedown on the floor, blood and saliva dribbling out of his mouth.

"That Anthony Ivo is a coward," Artemis huffed, turning and sliding the bolt lock of the door shut, "But it seems that he's a loyal coward."

"Swell, but his loyalty does us no good, Arty," Dick sighed as he pulled a box of matches from his pocket, lighting the cigarette and passing another one to Artemis, who had been holding her hand out expectantly, "Bats says wants the info or Ivo's head on his desk by Sunday morning."

"At this rate it'll be his head," Artemis replied, reaching over and cupping his face in her hand as she used the burning tip of his cigarette to light her own, "Maybe old man Zatara and his family can work their magic on him."

"If it's all the same to you, Arty, I'd rather not have to get Zatara or anyone in his house involved," Dick muttered. Artemis smiled coyly and the familiar way her eyes lit up told Dick she was about to say something that would either really amuse him or really piss him off.

"Is it because his lovely daughter dumped you like a body bag?" she smirked, taking a drag off of her cigarette.

"She didn't dump me!" Dick snapped back at her, "Zee and I have just been...taking a break."

"You've been taking a break for two years?" Artemis chuckled, but decided to drop the subject when his blue eyes started to blaze with anger. Yes, they liked to push each others buttons, but it was all in good fun. They both knew where each other stood and they knew when to call it quits on a conversation. "But back to our problem, Dick, we still need the information Ivo has."

"Do you think Wally could get him to talk?" Dick inquired after a moment of silence, but Artemis shook her head.

"I doubt he's got time for it. Ever since Barry's best rumrunners got caught, Wally's been put on the gig full-time," she explained, to which Dick gave a noncommittal grunt. The two stood in a comfortable silence, finishing their cigarettes and listening to the muffled groaning of their captive through the door.

This session was taking longer than it usually did with both of them on the job, but it was a routine they'd become accustomed to. If they got their target to talk, Artemis shot him down for being a squealer. If they refused to talk, they admired his respect for the Code of Silence, tortured or bribed the information out of him, and _then_ they shot him down for being a squealer.

Clean, simple, and all in a day's work.

"Well, I do have another idea," Dick finally said, tossing the smoldering cigarette butt onto the concrete floor and crushing it beneath a well-polished shoe, "We could try heading on over to Atlanta."

"Atlanta, huh? So you think they can get him to talk?" Artemis asked as her cigarette met the same fate as Dick's. The dark-haired young man simply chuckled, adjusting the dark blue tie around his neck before sliding an his arm around Artemis' shoulder and leading her down the hallway.

"You know how efficient Kaldur's interrogation methods are, Arty. I just hope he's not in the middle of a job."

~~.~~


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is a story originally prompted on the YJ Anon Meme. While I'm no longer a part of that community, though it was a fun run, I plan to continue this story, though I'm slowly going through the rewriting much of the posted chapters, since it's been nearly a year since I've worked on this. With the exception of a few revisions and alterations, the current story will remain overall the same.

Warning: This has a mild torture scene in it - nothing too graphic, but I thought I'd put up a warning all the same. Also, someone asked me if this is going to be a Dick/Artemis story, which I really don't know the answer too yet, but they do have the occasional "partners-with-benefits" thing going on.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any of the character interpretations or locations exclusive to the DC and/or Earth-16 universe. They are the property of DC Comics and their respective creators.

~~.~~

_Atlanta City_

_November 18th, 1932_

"I am curious to know, Dr. Strange, do you have any idea as to why so many people nowadays have a fixation for knives?" The young black-skinned man named Kaldur asked to the much older man currently tied to a chair in front of him. Not bothering to wait for an answer - since he knew it wouldn't come - Kaldur's pale green eyes darted towards the small table beside him, which held a variety of surgical knives, and for a moment he watched them glisten under the light of the bulb above him, "I myself cannot understand it, I'm afraid. They are just too messy for my liking."

Hugo Strange shifted against the tightly-bound ropes that held him to the chair and still said nothing. To the untrained eyes the man appeared to be remaining calm, but Kaldur knew better, and he could practically hear Strange's pulse pounding. The man was scared of him, and with very good reason.

"I myself prefer the cleaner methods," Kaldur continued on as he approached Strange and crouched down in front of him. Strange watched, eyes wide behind his dark glasses, as Kaldur reached into the back pocket of his blue trousers and pulls out a coil of wire. He unwound the coil carefully, occasionally pausing and examining the copper strings before binding them around all of Hugo's fingers.

"Even in this day and age, many people have a bad habit of underestimating the power of electricity. My mentor, for example, is one of them. If you truly have all the connections to claim to have, you have probably heard of my mentor referred to as the 'Aquaman'. A well earned title, rest assured." Kaldur stood up after tightening the wires and, with a nod of satisfaction, reached over towards the small table for another coil of wires.

"Of course, Dr. Strange, I mean no disrespect towards him," Kaldur assured Hugo, flashing him what could have been a very charming smile in any other situation, "But he has always taken a unique approach to our line of work, and prefers using water-based methods to get his way. In particular, he finds waterboarding to be quite effective."

Kaldur looked up from the two wires he was currently welding together, watching a few beads of sweat roll down Hugo's neck. "Tell me, are you familiar with the technique of waterboarding, Dr. Strange?" Hugo Strange quickly averted his gaze to the ground in front of him, his fingers turning red and flexing in discomfort against the bands of copper Kaldur had wrapped around them.

"I shall take that as a 'no' then," Kaldur smiled again before he started winding the ends of the recently welded wires around two large bolts protruding from the side of a small generator, "Please, allow me to explain. When someone is waterboarded, they are bound much like you are, except they are often on their backs." Straightening up again, Kaldur walked around to the other side of the generator and adjusted the dials to a low setting, "My mentor then places some sort of cloth, like a rag, over their face. The interesting part comes afterward."

Kladur then flipped the switch that turned on the generator and listened to Strange's howl out in pain as the man's body was wracked with a low current of electricity. Kaldur let it run for a moment before switching it off again and Hugo slumped down in his seat, his breathing hard and ragged.

"Water is then slowly dumped over their face," Kaldur continued, "It gives our associate a simulation of drowning..." Strange weakly lifted his head, whimpering as he looked down at the bright red burns running along the length of his fingers. "And I am certain that you know now that when their life is on the line, people tend to be much more cooperative."

Striding over him him, Kaldur examined the burns on Strange's hands none too gently. Strange bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out in pain, willing himself to remain silent. Kaldur sighed, shaking his head as he turned and walked back to stand beside the generator once more.

"You are a strong-willed and I must admire your loyalty to your boss, but I am afraid every man has his limits. You are a man of psychiatry; surely you already know what people will do in the name of self-preservation." Kaldur turned the dial on the generator to a higher level before switching it on again, watching Hugo's body jerk and convulse as the stronger electric current coursed through him.

"I like to consider myself a gentleman, Dr. Strange," Kaldur said once he'd switched the generator off, his nose wrinkling as the smell of the singed flesh on Strange's hands reached him, "And while I do not like having to take lives, I am not unfamiliar with the task. I simply want to know what sort of business dealings you have with a man named Joar Mahkent and his associates."

"N-not telling you…a-anything..." Strange hissed quietly, his head slumped forward against his chest.

"Now Dr. Strange, I strongly advise that you think your decisions through and weigh your words carefully."

With a weak snort, Strange lifted his head and spit out a mouthful of saliva at Kaldur's feet. Kaldur narrowed his eyes and sighed again, running a hand over his short blond hair and turning towards the table again, picking up a pair of rubber gloves and pulling them on.

"I do hate when negotiations fall through, Dr. Strange," Kaldur remarked, reaching under the table and pulling out a small metal trough that was filled hallway with water. Strange swallowed and watched as Kaldur set the trough down in front of him and started removing his shoes and socks.

"While I do not have the same passion for the various methods my mentor does, water does still have its uses." Kaldur said as he slid the water-filled trough over and dipped Hugo's feet in before walking back to the generator. "Perhaps I myself have underestimated the water's potentials..."

"W-wait, I'll talk!" Strange finally gasped, his wide eyes staring at the hand Kaldur now had positioned on the switch, "Joar Mahkent! He's putting hits out on the seven family heads!"

"Is he? Now why would he do that, Dr. Strange?" Kaldur asked with a feigned look of surprise, his hand still lingering on the switch.

"He knows about The Cave! He wants to run it to the ground! Says the Cave is taking all of his business." Kaldur felt a flash of genuine surprise this time. In the five years of it's existence, the speakeasy known as "The Cave" had eluded public knowledge, servicing only members in the seven families, along with their trusted comrades and associates.

"It seems we may have a mole hidden amongst out ranks. This must be discovered and dealt with quickly." Kaldur remarked, smiling again as he turned the dial of the generator up to it's highest settings, "I express my sincerest gratitude towards you, Dr. Strange, and I thank you on behalf of my mentor."

"But I told you want you wanted!" Strange howled, struggling against the ropes again. Kaldur chuckled humorlessly, his eyes cold as he regarded the sniveling man before him.

"Indeed you have, my friend. However, you are also a snitch, Dr. Strange, and no self-respecting boss has use for a traitorous rat like you," Kaldur replied, and he flipped the switch for a third time.

The dying screams of Hugo Strange were short lived, but satisfactory.

~.~

"That's one hell of a manor..." Artemis commented with a low whistle as Dick drove his Cadillac up the long driveway and passing a tall iron fence with a large 'A' welded onto the front gate. The home of Arthur Curry, head of the Atlanta family, and one of the wealthiest men in the country alongside Bruce Wayne.

"What did you expect, a boarding house?" Dick chuckled, taking his eyes off the driveway for a brief moment to admire the glittering surface of the large lake to their right. It was man-made by some of the Curry ancestors, but so vast that they could barely see the surrounding treeline on the opposite side of the water. "Arthur Curry's practically royalty around here."

"My uncle's known him for nearly seven years, but I've never met him," Artemis commented as Dick pulled into the circular driveway in front of the manor, parking alongside a dark blue Deusenberg that belonged to the current owner of the Curry estate.

"Arthur doesn't get out much unless another boss calls a meeting, and even then he might not show up," Dick replied as he slid out of the driver's side, "He takes care of both levels of his family from his home, and usually sends Kaldur or Garth out to do his dirty work for him, not that either of them mind."

"So what's he like?" Artemis asked as she pulled her Walther gun from her belt and slipped it beneath her seat. Across the seat, Dick was doing the same with his pistols, and Artemis took a moment to admire the display of knives he also had hidden in his belt. It was an unspoken knowledge among the seven families that entering the private home of a boss with weapons was a challenge towards them and their family, whether it was intentional or not.

"Arthur's a very good man to have on your side, but he's even more strict than Bruce," Dick replied, circling around to car to stand beside her. Artemis had to raise an eyebrow at that; she'd been on the receiving end of Bruce's temper more than once. "He was a commanding officer back in the Great War, and he's still got a military mindset. Keeps him prepared, he says." Artemis acknowledged Dick's comments with a grunt, ascending the marble staircase that led up to the manor,

"Whatever you do," Dick said again as he ran a hand over his slicked back hair, "Just try not to piss him off."

"No guarantees," Artemis replied, flashing him a smirk as Dick reached out and knocked on the door.

~~.~~


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is a story originally prompted on the YJ Anon Meme. While I'm no longer a part of that community, though it was a fun run, I plan to continue this story, though I'm slowly going through the rewriting much of the posted chapters, since it's been nearly a year since I've worked on this. With the exception of a few revisions and alterations, the current story will remain overall the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any of the character interpretations or locations exclusive to the DC and/or Earth-16 universe. They are the property of DC Comics and their respective creators.

~~.~~

_Atlanta City_

_November 18th, 1932_

"I like your efficiency with this Kaldur, but would it kill you to do this in the guest house? Or at least a room with a window?" A blacked-hair young man frowned as he entered the dark room, nearly gagging on the strong stench of the electrocuted flesh of Hugo Strange. Kaldur chuckled quietly from where he stood, unwinding the copper coils from the generator and tossing them into a small wooden box sitting on his table.

"My apologies, Garth," Kaldur replied, pulling his rubber gloves off and tossing them into the box as well. He slid the table across the room and against the wall before looking over at Garth, the humor now gone from his eyes, "But I did manage to learn that Joar Mahkent has put out hits on the heads of the League families."

"He put hits out on the whole League?" Garth repeated incredulously, "Where the hell does he get the balls to challenge all seven family heads at the same time?" Kaldur frowned and opened his mouth to reply when a feminine voice cut him off.

"Joar Mahkent has a bad habit of biting off more than he can chew. But when his family really wants someone iced, it happens." Both of the men turned as a young and freckled red-headed woman walked into the room, though she seemed to pay no attention to the gradually fading stench.

"You finally got Arthur junior to take his nap, Tula?" Garth asked, and Kaldur chuckled when he noticed the absence of a blond toddler trailing after her. Tula acknowledged Gath's words with a sigh and shake of her head, though there was an unmistakable warmth in her eyes as well.

"Arthur junior's becoming almost as rambunctious as Bart Allen was at that age. He's going to give me gray airs before I'm 25," Tula remarked, briefly glancing around the room once before turning her green gaze on Kaldur. "By the way, a Cadillac just pulled in. It looked like Dick's car, Kaldur."

"My company has a knack for inconvenient timing," Kaldur chuckled fondly as Tula walked over to him and adjusted the lapels of his jacket and muttered something about 'looking presentable for once'. "Garth, if I get dragged away on business elsewhere, be sure to report what I told you to Arthur, and warn him that Strange made implications of a mole being in our ranks."

"Gotcha boss," Garth replied, nose wrinkling again when he looked over at the lightly smoking body of Hugo Strange again. "Also, what the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"Take him to the lake," Kaldur replied, kissing Tula's cheek and exiting the room, "The fish are getting rather hungry."

~.~

_Gotham City_

_November 18th, 1932_

After a tedious three-hour meeting with the Wayne Enterprises Board of Supervisors and then afterwards having to cover up a mess when his second son had "accidentally" shot a man in the chest four or five times, the last thing Bruce Wayne wanted to hear the moment when he sat down on his desk was the ringing of his telephone. The billionaire sighed and snatched the phone off the reciever with a scowl.

"Bruce Wayne here."

"Bruce? It's Clark. We've got a serious problem."

"What did Barry do now?" Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples to ward off an oncoming headache as a myriad of bad scenarios came to his mind.

"It wasn't Barry this time, Bruce," Clark replied on his end, his voice suddenly grim, "Hal just contacted me - our gin mill in Coast City has been burnt to the ground."

"What?" Bruce snapped, his grip on the phone reciever tightening, "Who the hell did it?"

"We haven't figured that out yet, but everyone from Happy Harbor to Atlanta knows that the 'Green Lantern' was a League establishment. Whichever family is responsible for this is openly proposing a war with the League.

"Well then, they can rest tonight knowing that they've got one." Bruce growled back before taking a calming breath, "All right Clark...Inform the rest of the League that I'm calling a meeting at the Watchtower."

"I had a feeling that you would," Clark sighed, "We'll see you then, Bruce." Bruce grunted a reply, hanging the reciever up and spotting his second-eldest ward standing in the doorway, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hands.

"What was all that about, Bruce?" the boy asked, walking into the office and standing in front of Bruce's desk as he took another bite of the toast. Bruce scowled at the crumbs that fell onto his desk before sighing and getting to his feet.

"Nothing you need to worry about right now, Jason," Bruce replied, raising an eyebrow when he saw that Jason still was still wearing the blood-stained blazer he'd worn at the time of his "accidental" shooting. "Now go throw that damn coat away, and tell Alfred to get my car ready."

~.~

_Atlanta City_

_November 18th, 1932_

"Dick, Artemis, always a pleasure," Kaldur greeted, nodding his head at them as he pulled the front door open. Dick grinned at his old friend while Artemis acknowledged him with a polite nod of her own, "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Well, we've only got one reason for coming south when it's not in the summer season," Dick replied as he and Artemis entered the house and stepped into the foyer, both of them taking a moment to admire the ionic columns and winding staircases around them. Arthur Curry was known for his fondness towards old-fashioned architecture, and his home really showed that trait off.

"You have need my services yet again?" Kaldur smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets, "Have you two become incapable of performing your own interrogations?"

"We need someone who'll handle the job with more sensitivity," Dick replied, nodding a greeting at Garth as he walked through the room with the half burnt body of a man slung over his shoulder, "Artemis keeps forgetting that we're supposed to get the information and _then_ kill the captive."

"Old habits die hard," Artemis defending herself with a shrug.

"And you, Dick?" Kaldur asked as he led the two of them across the foyer and through a doorway on the right, which brought them to a study with walls lined with crammed bookshelves.

Dick chuckled as he and Artemis sat themselves on two of the leather chairs, his blue eyes glinting.

"You know that my family's methods are designed for hits, not interrogations," he replied simply. Kaldur raised an eyebrow as he sat down in another chair across from them, a look of understanding passing over his face his face.

"Fair enough," Kaldur agreed, "Where is the target located?"

"Our usual warehouse in Gotham, down by the southern docks," Artemis replied, "Are you going to head down tonight, because Bruce has us on a time table."

"I have some matters to take care of here first, but I will leave shortly," Kaldur nodded again, "Will you two be joining me now or following later?"

"Later," Dick answered and sat up in his seat, "We're going to swing by the Cave on our way back and see if we've missed any news."

"Not trying to anyone," Artemis spoke up again as she sat up as well, "But Ivo's absence will probably be noticed soon, and when that happens his boss'll send some people to Gotham."

"Would that really a problem?" Kaldur asked with genuine curiosity as he got to his feet, "As I recall the two of you usually look forward to tresspassers in Gotham, since Bruce allows you free-range with them."

"Normally we do," Dick replied, getting up as well, "But something's gotten the League pretty whelmed right now, so we wanna keep this short and clean." Kaldur looked puzzled for a moment before giving Artemis a look that said "Whelmed"? Artemis rolled her eyes at the choice of words and just shook her head, mouthing "Don't ask" back at him as she stood up.

"Very well then," Kaldur replied with another nod, opting to take Artemis' advice and ignore Dick's questionable vocabulary. Turning on his heel, he led them back out into the foyer again and to the front door, "I shall see you soon, my friends."

"See you in Gotham, Kal!" Artemis called over her shoulder, and Kaldur returned Dick's farewell wave with one of his own before shutting the door.

"You didn't tell them anything you learned from Strange?" Kaldur turned to see Tula standing behind him, her expression curious but not accusing. Kaldur sighed again, rubbing his neck as he crossed the room to stand in front of her.

"While I do trust both Dick and Artemis with my life, I cannot be certain that one of their associates is not compromised," he replied, "If they spread the word and alert the traitor, he or she could do considerable damage before we caught them." Tula frowned but nodded; in their line of work, it was always better to play things safe than sorry.

"Just be careful, Kaldur," Tula sighed, "You know how much damage one small slip up can do."

"Rest assured, Tula, that I will do everything in my power to keep our family safe," Kaldur smiled, leaning forward and tenderly kissing her lips, "Now, you must excuse me. I have business to attend to in Gotham."

~~.~~

AN: Sorry that this chapter's kinda short, but the plot and action will be picking up in the next couple chapter. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is a story originally prompted on the YJ Anon Meme. While I'm no longer a part of that community, though it was a fun run, I plan to continue this story, though I'm slowly going through the rewriting much of the posted chapters, since it's been nearly a year since I've worked on this. With the exception of a few revisions and alterations, the current story will remain overall the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any of the character interpretations or locations exclusive to the DC and/or Earth-16 universe. They are the property of DC Comics and their respective creators.

~~.~~

Metropolis

November 19th, 1932

Anyone walking past or into Bibbo's Diner would have never thought there was anything out of the ordinary about the joint. It was a standard diner for a big city like Metropolis, furnished with a long wrap-around bar in the center and a few stray booths along the opposite wall, with a few stray paintings and movie posters decorating the walls.

No matter what time of the day it really was, the air was always filled with the aroma of breakfast foods, the strong scent of coffee, and the lingering odor of cigarette smoke, which together made a surprisingly pleasant combination. At least, in Bibbo's opinion they did.

Dick pushed the front door open and smiled as the familiar scent hit him, but Artemis wrinkled her nose at the smells in the air, which was now also laced with the thick stench of fresh cigars, courtesy of a group of business men a few booths down, and whatever greasy meals were being prepared for the customers present.

"Miss Crock, Mister Grayson," a young blonde waitress greeted them warmly, approaching them with menus folded in her hands, "Shall I prepare your usual booth?"

"No thanks Bette - we'll be dining in the _back_," Dick replied, lowering his voice after glancing around to make sure none of the other customers were in hearing range. Bette nodded in understanding and tucked the stack of menus beneath her arm, leading both of them around the counter and into the kitchen.

A couple of the cooks, including Bibbo himself, glanced up when they entered, but quickly turned their attention back to the dishes they were washing or preparing when they saw who had entered.

"So Bette, who's working tonight?" Artemis asked as Bette circled around the long row of stoves and flipped a switch nearly hidden by a large wooden shelf. There was a click as a unseen mechanism came to life, and the wooden shelf slid itself out of the way to reveal a thick wooden door hidden behind it.

"Megan was behind the bar earlier," Bette replied as she retrieve a key from the pocket of her apron, unlocking the door and pulling it open for them, "She's got that Conner boy down there on door security as well." Dick nodded, flashing her a charming smile as they walked past her and into the narrow hallway lined on all sides with dark brown stone.

"Do you think Wally's here?" Artemis asked as they walked down the set of narrow stairs carved into the stone.

"Not sure," Dick replied with a shrug as they rounded a corner, "Barry never really worked Wally very hard when it came to being a runner before, but that was before Scudder and Rathway were caught."

"So has Barry gone back to molding Wally as the next head of the Central City family again?"

"Probably, since the word on the streets is that his cousin Bart's not turning out to be a very promising heir," Dick shrugged again as they reached the bottom of the staircase, "Plus Barry's still got his hands full with the old boss - it's hardly been a year since old Jay retired but he's had three attempts on his life from old rivals already," Artemis shrugged back at him, as the information didn't surprise her at all.

"I'm surprised Jay made it to a retiring age," Artemis remarked as they finally reached another door, though this was was made of metal and much thicker than the one upstairs, "Though he's lasted a hell of a lot longer than Kent Nelson did."

"Hey, Nelson chose his own fate," Dick replied with a shrug of his own, knocking on the metal door. A small metal slab on the door, the outline of which had been barely noticeable, slid away and a pair of crystal blue eyes glared down at them through a small window.

"Hey there, Conner. You gonna let us in or make us stand here all night?" Artemis spoke up with a grin. The blue eyes flashed before the slab was slid back into place and the door swung open.

Conner Kent towered over them, thick arms crossed over his broad chest as he stepped back to let them in. Dick and Artemis peered through the pleasant haze of the cigarette smoke at the large, brightly lit speakeasy before them. The room was filled with the sound of live jazz music, clanking glasses, and a low hum of conversations from many patrons. The large, wide bar, visible from across the room, stood before a row of shelves covered in too many bottles of moonshine and liquor to count.

"Glad to see that Megan finally convinced you to wear your new tuxedo," Dick chuckled, looking over the dark blue suit that Conner wore. The muscular man frowned down at him, adjusting his black tie with a look of discomfort.

"I hate monkey suits..." he muttered quietly, closing and bolting the door behind them.

"If you hate it so much, just take it off big guy," Artemis replied with a wink, trying not to grin at the flustered look that passed over Conner's face.

"Artemis, stop harassing the poor security for once," Dick chuckled, hooking his arm around hers and leading her towards their usual table in the far corner, "Besides, we both know that Megan's already staked that claim. Several times. Probably even in this room."

"Doesn't mean a lady can't flirt around," Artemis smirked as they took their seats, hardly having time to settle in before another pair of arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her shoulders.

"Only one problem with that logic, Arty," a familiar voice spoke in her ear, "You're not really much of a lady."

"That sounds like the grating voice of Wally West..." Artemis sighed, humor shining in her eyes when she turned in her seat to look over at him, "I should've known; I'd recognize that freckled mug and hideous yellow cap anywhere."

"I like my cap, thank you," Wally replied defensively as he reached behind him, pulling a stray chair from a nearby empty table and settling himself between them, "Swiped it from some random runner after I took out that Grodd fellow."

"You and your souvenirs..." Dick chuckled, leaning back in his seat before waving a hand and catching the attention of one of the young attendants, who quickly bustled over with a large bottle of liquor and a small stack of glasses, "Thanks, Billy."

"Hope you at least washed it - that Grodd guy smelled like a damn ape." Artemis muttered off-handedly as she picked up the liquor bottle and pouring the three of them their shots before they simultaneously raised the small cups, "Cheers!"

"But onto to a more interesting topic," Wally said after he downed his cup in one gulp, "I overheard uncle Barry talking to Hal on the phone earlier today; someone burned down the 'Green Lantern'."

"What?!" Dick exclaimed with disbelief, though the roaring jazz music around them drowned him out from any prying ears, "The Lantern's been a hot spot for years - there's no one in that city who doesn't know it's a League establishments!"

"Yeah, and no one's more pissed about it than Kyle..." Wally said with a shake of his head, pulling the bottle over and pouring himself another glass, "Uncle Hal was about to start letting him run the joint too, since his partner finally ran off with that dame."

"You're talking about John Stewart, right?" Artemis asked, still sipping at her first glass, "Is he still an associate of Jordan's?"

"He used to be," Wally replied with a shrug, "But he sure as hell won't be if he keeps putting that vixen before his boss."

"So does anyone know who hit the Lantern yet?" Dick asked, lowering his voice as a few giggling girls staggered by the table. Wally pointedly watched the girls and shook his head, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his tousled red hair.

"Neither Barry or Hal have a suspect at this point, but that could be the least of our worries right now," Wally sighed, "Right before I finished the gig and headed up here, Barry was leaving for the Watchtower. Aunt Iris says Bruce called the meeting."

"Bruce called a meeting?" Dick repeated with a frown. Bruce rarely, if ever, resorted to calling a Watchtower meeting, and when he did, he gave Dick and the others at least a day's warning in advance. Wally nodded back at him again and started pouring himself a third cup.

"You know it's bad when the Watchtower gets called into service," Artemis sighed as Wally downed the glass, "That old lighthouse hasn't been used in years. But the Lantern aside, do you know if the meeting's going to be about anything else?"

"No, but if it is, it's nothing good for us," Wally replied, reaching to pour himself a fourth cup and scowling when Dick tugged the bottle out of his hands, "But if you want my advice, I'd say head back to Wayne Manor when you get to Gotham and do some snooping while Bruce is out."

"Sounds like a plan," Dick replied as he downed the last of his own drink, "Maybe Jason's overheard something, and if he hasn't, Babs has eyes and ears all over the League's cities."

"You wanna come with us? Kaldur's heading up there to do an interrogation for us," Artemis asked, smacking Wally's hand when he reached for her cup. She knew the liquor never gave him a buzz thanks to some ridiculous metabolism rate he was born with, but that didn't mean he could take hers either.

"Nah - I gotta get back to Central while Barry's gone," Wally replied, snatching the bottle and pouring the last of it into his glass before Dick or Artemis cpuld stop him, "Aunt Iris wants me to take Bart on my next gig and see if he's got any potential as a runner."

"You're taking Bart on a run already?" Dick inquired, lifting as eyebrow as Wally got to his feet and adjusted his cap again, " Isn't he just a kid?"

"That's rich coming from you, Dick. If Bruce taught you anything, it's that you gotta train them young." Wally grinned before downing his last shot, winking at them both before turning and disappearing into the bustling crowds.

~~.~~


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is a story originally prompted on the YJ Anon Meme. While I'm no longer a part of that community, though it was a fun run, I plan to continue this story, though I'm slowly going through the rewriting much of the posted chapters, since it's been nearly a year since I've worked on this. With the exception of a few revisions and alterations, the current story will remain overall the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any of the character interpretations or locations exclusive to the DC and/or Earth-16 universe. They are the property of DC Comics and their respective creators.

~~.~~

_Jump City_

_November 19th, 1932_

The cast-iron lighthouse of the cliffs overlooking the city was known to some as the 'Watchtower', the tallest building in Jump City. Built on private property owned by Wayne Interprises, the large, fenced-off plot of land near the bay was usually secluded, but today it had a row of cars parked in front of it, ranging from Arthur Curry's dark blue Deusenberg to Oliver Queen's forest green Buick Eight.

The inside had the typical metal grate spiral leading up to control room, which had a few low hanging lights dropped down from the ceiling, and thick black curtains drawn over the large windows. The huge bulb of the lighthouse had long been discarded and replaced with a circular table surrounded by seven chairs, six of which were currently occupied.

Clark Kent, Diana Prince, John Jones, Arthur Curry, Oliver Queen, and Bruce Wayne. Six of the seven family hands that made up "The League" and the six of them, as usual, were waiting in silence for the seventh family head, Barry Allen.

"Okay, it has nearly been an hour - where is Barry?" Arthur growled, tapping his fingers against the tabletop irritably.

"Since when has Barry, or any member of the Central family, been known for their punctuality?" Oliver chuckled rhetorically, lighting himself a cigarette. Arthur just scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I hope he realizes that some of us still have duties to attend to back home," Arthur growled, his eyes darting towards the small clock ticking on the wall above them. Clark sighed softly from his seat and waved a hand, catching everyone's attention.

"Arthur's right. We've waited too long already." Clark said, and all of them turned their attention towards Bruce, who put out his own cigarette and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair.

"Our first and possibly biggest concern right now is the recent attack in Coast City," Bruce informed the group, his hands folded in front of him, "The Green Lantern was burned to the ground." Arthur let out an enraged "What?" while Diana and John exchanged shocked glances. But Oliver just took another long drag off of his cigarette, looking far less fazed than the rest of them.

"Not that I didn't enjoy an afternoon in the Lantern, maybe it was an accident? I mean, it's not like there was nothing flammable inside," Oliver suggested, but Bruce shook his head.

"I had Kyle and Hal search the grounds thoroughly, and they found the remains of several Molotov cocktails," Bruce informed them, his eyes narrowed into slits, "Someone burnt the place down intentionally, which means that someone is challenging the Seven Heads."

"Could whoever did this have been looking to settle a personal score with Hal, perhaps?" Diana asked with a frown, though she seemed uncertain with her own idea, "The Lantern wasn't exactly our biggest joint, and Hal has no shortage of enemies."

"True, but it wasn't an individual establishment," John pointed out, "The Lantern was not only a known League establishment, but one of our oldest as well."

"This also means you need to keep it out of the papers for now, Clark." Bruce stared, pointing a finger at the wide-shouldered man, "Coast City may know already, but we don't need word of this getting out. It could be taken as a sign of vulnerability."

"I figured, and I've already had Jimmy put the word out to cover it up," Clark replied. Clark had long ago put his associates in key positions in not only the Daily Planet of Metropolis, but in many large printing presses all over the country. Having control of mass media makes you that much more powerful, he had said once, and so far it proved to be a vital asset.

"I'll stay in contact with Hal and keep trying to solve this case," Bruce sighed as his looked around the room, "Now, what about the rest of your homes? Any rise in odd activity?" Oliver put out his cigarette with a shake of his head and a lazy "nope".

"All has been quiet in Paradise City," Diana replied with a smile. Diana had a unique city, in the sense that nearly every female citizen was an associate of hers, and so any minor issues on the street were uncovered and resolved within a day at the most. "Cassie is still being trained overseas, but my mother says that so far she's learning fast."

"Same with Kara," Clark added, referring to his young cousin and new successor. Clark was smiling, but his eyes still flashed and they all knew that he was thinking about his fight with Conner, the fight which had caused his son to walk out on the Metropolis family a few years ago.

"Speaking of our successors, how is business at the Cave doing?" Arthur asked as he looked over at John, who had been the original owner of the speakeasy.

"It has been thriving ever since my niece took control," John replied with a touch of pride in his usually monotonous voice, "She has got Conner working there as security as well," he added with a side-glance at Clark, who scowled back at him. Bruce narrowed his eyes wordlessly; Clark could play the role of the betrayed father all he wanted, but Bruce still knew that Clark had never truly embraced Conner, an illegitimate son with a deceased ex, as his true successor. But then, he hadn't known the boy existed until he was nearly sixteen either.

"Even so, we should probably a sharper eye on all of our remaining establishments," Oliver suggested, "I'd say at least get one more person on security there. Conner's a big lad, but if they ever get raided he's not exactly bulletproof."

"An associate of mine has a son looking for work; Mal Duncan, and he's perfect for security," John replied, "She has also gotten two new runners to replace the one that have moved on - Wendy Harris and Marvin White are their names, I believe."

"I can have Red swing by to supervise as well," Diana added, referring to their associate John "The Tornado" Smith, known for both his skill with a Tommy gun and such a lack of personality that he almost seemed robotic. His current nickname, "Red", stemmed from his habit of wearing dark red suits, a trait that they still did not understand.

"Well, since the Cave and our cities seem safe enough for the moment, I have another pressing matter to bring up," Arthur spoke up, "Before I left home, Kaldur informed me that Joar Mahkent has put out hits on all of us."

"He didn't learn his lesson last time?" Oliver asked, almost sounding amused at Arthur's news, "I thought jailing him and his kid would have told him something about challenging the League."

"As amusing as that is Oliver," Bruce said, though this voice had no hint of real amusement at all, "Joar is still the head of a crime family, and he may have been involved with what happened to the Lantern. We'll take his threat seriously, for now." Bruce then got to his feet, and his actions were mirrored by the others, "Since this meeting seems to be concluded-"

"I'm here!" Everyone turned towards the door as it burst open and a middle-aged blonde man rushed into the room, "We have a situ-...ah hell, the meeting's over." he frowned upon realizing that everyone was standing and ready to leave.

"Nice of you to join us, Barry." Bruce growled through clenched teeth, "Unfortunately, you missed..." Bruce's voice trailed off when he noticed that Barry was gripping a case in his left hand, and that said case had blood trickling from one of the cracked corners. "What is that?"

"The reason I was late." Barry replied with a frown, striding over and setting the case onto the table. Bruce's nose wrinkled at the foul stench the case was emitting before looking up at Barry with blazing eyes. They all knew _what_ was in the case,_ just _not who.

"It's Snapper," Barry sighed heavily, and Bruce's eyes flashed in a blaze of anger. Lucas "Snapper" Carr, the long-time associate and loyal errand boy of the League.

"Then if the Lantern wasn't a war declaration, this certainly is!" Diana snapped angrily, banging her fist down on the table and rattling the entire thing, "Who did this!?" Barry reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a piece of white cardboard.

"The head, case and all, was on the hood of my car. His body was just tossed in the yard, and I found this pinned to the chest," Barry explained, tossing the object into the center of the table. Bruce leaned forward to look at it and narrowed his eyes.

It was a bloodstained Joker card.

~.~

_Metropolis_

_November 19th, 1932_

"I didn't hear anything except him telling Clark that he wanted a meeting," Jason said into the receiver of the phone, fiddling with the Shakespeare bust that Bruce kept on his desk, "He had Alfred get the car ready and he left before I could even ask to go along."

"That's all? He didn't say anything else to you or to Alfred?" Dick asked from his end of the phone cal;, trying to talk over the music and conversations roaring in the background. Jason chuckled on his end before answering.

"He gave me another 'Don't shoot people in broad daylight' speech." Jason replied, raising an eyebrow when he heard Dick sigh.

"Commissioner Gordon may be Bruce's associate, but he can only sweep so many deaths under the rug," Dick reminded him, frowning when he heard Jason scoff.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that from you, Bruce, Alfred, Babs, and the Commissioner already..." Jason said, his voice tinged with irritation in he leaned against the back of Bruce's armchair, "What's the point of being a triggerman if I can't even-?"

"Because you're not one yet, Jason. A real hitman doesn't make sloppy kills and he knows how to keep his head down." Dick reminded him, "Speaking of which, you're supposed to be doing target practice tonight."

"All right, fine! I won't shoot people in the street anymore! Well, not yet anyway." Jason grinned, "Where are you and Artemis heading anyway?"

"We'll be back in Gotham soon - Kaldur's doing an interrogation for us, so we're going to swing by for a bit. Who else is there right now?"

"Just me, though Babs will probably come by later and Alfred's cooking some dinner for Bruce that he probably won't be home to eat."

"Save some for us then," Dick grinned, hanging up before Jason could reply. Artemis walked up just as Dick set the phone back into the booth and plopped his black fedora onto his head.

"We need to make ourselves scarce for Megan actually notices that we're here," Artemis said as she nudged him towards the exit. Dick nodded in agreement, adjusting his jacket and following after her. Megan, a flapper through and through, was a dear friend to both of them, but ironically since she took over the Cave from her uncle she had much for free time that they did. She didn't seem to quite understand the "there's a ripe body in the trunk, so we're kind of in a hurry," concept either, since her hands were still clean.

Well, _cleaner_.

"Babs'll be at the Manor later," Dick said as Conner unbolted the door for them again, "Maybe she can get some information for us while we're resting up." Artemis glanced back at him and flashed him an amused smile.

"Okay, but fair warning Dick; if Jason tries to spy on me in the shower again, I'm slicing him up and hand-feeding him to Ace in slivers."

"Fair enough."

~~.~~


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This is a story originally prompted on the YJ Anon Meme. While I'm no longer a part of that community, though it was a fun run, I plan to continue this story, though I'm slowly going through the rewriting much of the posted chapters, since it's been nearly a year since I've worked on this. With the exception of a few revisions and alterations, the current story will remain overall the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any of the character interpretations or locations exclusive to the DC and/or Earth-16 universe. They are the property of DC Comics and their respective creators.

~~.~~

_Star City_

_November 20th, 1932_

The grandfather clock chimed loudly as it hit the nine o'clock mark, and the noise echoed in the long empty hallway. A blonde man stood in front of the large bay windows of the hall, arms crossed over his broad chest as the moonlight glowed down on him. His associate was nearly two hours late again, which meant he either failed the mission and got caught, or, more likely, he'd stopped by one of their joints with his less-than-sane partner to toast a successful mission.

It wasn't until nine-thirty came around that the man was joined in the hallway by a second broad-shouldered man, who huffed out an insincere "Sorry," as he wiped his bloodstained hands on the pants of his suit.

"Slade," the blonde man greeted gruffly as he turned to face his companion, "What the hell kept you?" Slade Wilson, another middle-aged man with striking white hair, sighed as he pulled a thick pair of gloves off, stuffing them into the pockets of his pants.

"Jack Napier kept me," he replied with a scowl, "I'm swear Lawrence, if Ra's didn't think so highly of him and his ridiculous methods, he'd be at the bottom of the Mississippi right now."

"Is he still leaving those damn cards behind?" Lawrence asked with a knowing chuckle as he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out two cigars and handing one of them with Slade, who took it with a nod.

"I don't see the significance behind a Joker card, but Napier certainly does," Slade growled as he lit the cigar and took a heavy puff, "But let's get to the matter at hand."

"Right," Lawrence nodded as he lit his own cigar, "Mahkent's boy actually managed to do something right."

"Cameron?" Slade asked with a skeptical frown, "He actually took out the Green Lantern?"

"Yep...I had my doubts about the boy, but he burnt the place to the ground - That oughta send a message to that goddamned 'League'." Lawrence snickered. Slade narrowed his eyes as he brought the cigar to his mouth again, nose wrinkling as the strong odor.

"Little bastard's doin' better than your kids at least," he muttered, and Lawrence turned to him with a scowl.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he growled, his free hand clenching into a fist, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Slade.

"Well, with Jade goin' rogue on you, and Artemis ditchin' to join that half-brother of yours, you don't have much of a winning streak behind you," Slade chuckled in reply.

"Jade's too damn soft, like her mother," Lawrence grunted, "And my baby girl is technically still in the family business."

"Maybe," Slade replied indifferently, "But she's not working for _your_ part of the family, she's working for Oliver's."

"Guess no one can compete with your perfect kids, Slade, can they?" Lawrence scowled, and Slade just chuckled again.

"Couldn't ask for better kids," he smirked, "Jericho could talk you into giving him your gun if he tried, and no one's more loyal than Rose."

"For now," Lawrence pointed out, and it was Slade's turn to scowl, "Now let's go - Joar's still got those hits out on the League, and I'd rather not see the money go to someone ridiculous like Nigma or Brickwell."

"Fine," Slade huffed back at him, tossing the half-finished cigar down and grinding it into the frayed carpet, "You got a car or did ya walk here?"

"I've got Paula's old Fordor's outside," Lawrence replied, giving his cigar the same fate of Slade's before leading the other man away from the window, "She's certainly got no use for the car nowadays," he added as an afterthought and the two men disappeared down the hall.

~.~

_Gotham City_

_November 20th, 1932_

"This is taking way too long," Artemis said with another impatient sigh, adjusting the lapels of her jacket, something she only did when shw was really bored. Dick chuckled and ran a hand through his hair again, leaning back against the wall beside her.

"Patience is a virtue, Artemis," he replied, "Besides, it's not like Kaldur didn't warn us that this could take a while." As if on cue, the two of them heard a muffled scream from the opposite side of the door, followed by a low chuckle from Kaldur.

"At least he's enjoying himself," Artemis muttered, leaning against the wall on her shoulder. Dick chuckled quietly, shrugging to himself.

"We'll head up to the Manor once we're done here," he told her with a grin, "Unless you want to go back to the Cave and see Megan?"

"Even if we left right now, the Cave would be too crowded when we got there. Dinner rush and all that," Artemis pointed out, "I say we just head up to Wayne Manor and kill a few hours there, and then head back to the Cave.

"I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time," Dick replied with a playful wink. Artemis rolled her eyes, pushing her thick mane of hair over her shoulder.

"Keep it in your trousers for now, Grayson," she muttered with a chuckle. Dick laughed and opened his mouth to reply when the door opened and Kaldur stepped out, sighing as he wiped his bloody hands off on a napkin.

"I have done many interrogations on many types of men in my life, but this one is by far one of the toughest," Kaldur reported, shutting the door before moving to stand in front of the other two, "This may take me another hour at the very least."

"Right..." Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Would you be offended if Artemis and I headed elsewhere? We've got to see if Babs has heard anything through her connections." Kaldur shook his head, glancing back at the door that blocked Ivo from their view.

"I would not," Kaldur replied, frowning as he rubbed some of the dried blood out from between his fingers, "As it happens, I usually work better without an audience, so-"

"Is someone here?" Dick suddenly interrupted, looking over Kaldur's shoulder when they heard the sound of tires driving over the gravel in the yard. "Kal, were you expecting someone?" Kaldur glanced back towards the sounds of the approaching vehicle as well, frowning and shaking his head.

"I was not personally expecting any company," he replied uncertainly. Artemis looked towards the noise as well, her eyes narrowing as if she recognized the sound of the approaching vehicle, "Perhaps it is just Wally, or-"

"Get down!" Artemis suddenly shouted as she tackled Kaldur and Dick to the ground, and the three of them cringed as bullets ripped through the walls above them while the sound of multiple tommy guns rattling filled their ears.

"Damn it!" Dick snarled, pressing himself down as low as he could as dust and chips of the shot walls fell down onto them. Another round began firing as soon as the first one ended, and the sound of muffled laughter carried over with the noise.

"We gotta move!" Artemis hissed sharply in his ear, nudging Kaldur towards the door of the interrogation room. Kaldur nodded back at her and jumped to his feet, shouldering the door open and hurrying into the dark room, with Dick and Artemis crawling in after him. Artemis quickly kicked the door shut behind her, making a face when she felt something warm and wet pooling beneath her.

"So much for information," Dick scowled down at Ivo's bullet-filled body, still tied onto the chair, before rolling sideways to avoid the rapidly-spreading puddle of blood. Kaldur ducked down beside them as the bullets started tearing through the door, his hands balled into fists.

"Another declaration against the League?" Kaldur snapped. Dick pushed himself up into a crouch, shaking his head.

"I don't think so!" he called over the noise, "I think it's someone sent to take care of Ivo before he talked!"

"Well the bastards got him!" Artemis growled as she sat up, pulling her own gun from her belt, firing a few shots through what was left of the door. One muffled cry rang out before they heard the thud of a body hitting the floor, and moments later the firing stopped.

"We got Ivo - Let's go!" Someone shouted from the hall, and they heard the sound of retreating footsteps.

"They are not getting away-!" Dick snarled as he jumped up to his feet, but both Kaldur and Artemis grabbed him by the flaps of his jacket and pulled him back down.

"Whoever 'they' are, they almost pumped us all full of lead!" Kaldur snapped at him, "So they not only knew that you had Ivo, but they knew where we were and that we were off-guard!"

"So we kill them now, and don't have to worry about them later!" Dick growled back, glancing back when Artemis set her hand on his shoulder with a shake of her head.

"Kaldur's right - just lay low right now. We can identify the body outside, and see-" Artemis started, flinching when they heard the guns go off again, following by the grated screeching of tires as the car outside took off.

"What did they just...?" Dick frowned as he stood up, peering out through a broken window before gasping, "Wait, where are the cars?!"

"What?" Kaldur asked and he jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing when he spotted the skid marks on the dock, "Those bastards pushed them into the bay!"

"Damn it!" Artemis snapped, stepping over Ivo's body and heading into the hall, glass crunching beneath her shoes as she examined the body that had been left behind.

"I know that man," Dick frowned as he followed her into the hallway and knelt beside the body, "That's Leonard Snart - he works for Joar Mahkent!"

"So were those hits just for the League, or is there a price on our heads too?" Artemis frowned. Dick smoothed his now ruffled hair down again, brushing dust from his shoulders.

"I don't know," he replied with a sigh, "I still think they were just assigned to take out Ivo before he spilled anything." Kaldur frowned as he examined the bullet holes in the wall, eyes narrowed in thought.

"If Joar is behind this, then that was probably Cameron Mahkent leading that attack," the dark-skinned boy sighed, "But I am not certain that he knew we were inside with him."

"I don't really give a damn what he did or didn't know," Artemis snapped back at him, "They knew Ivo was being held her, so someone in our midst is a damn squealer, and we need to figure out who it is!"

"Would this be a bad time to point out that our cars are still in the bay?" Dick piped up, and Kaldur sighed heavily.

"You two could just catch a taxi back to Wayne manor," Kaldur said as they headed for the exit, "I just need a phone. I can call back home and have Garth bring me another car."

"There's a payphone not too far from here, Kaldur," Dick told him, glancing over at the Bay and staring dismally at the bumper of his Cadillac, which stilll peaked out through the surface of the murky water, "And I'm sure Bruce will want to hear about this too..."

"Of course he will..." Artemis frowned as she pulled her jacket off, brushing off the flakes of dried blood and debris before tossing it over her shoulder, "There's a snitch in the League, and he'd be as eager to find out who it is as we are."

~~.~~

To answer some questions I've gotten:

1. Artemis is technically still part of the Queen family, but she's no longer the heir that replaced Roy. This will be explained in more detail later. She's also Dick's partner during their assignments, so she spends most of her time with the Gotham family.

2. Yes, each boss/family has something specific to contribute, such as Clark's power over the media, and most of this will be explored throughout the story.

3. As of this chapter, Dick is 17. Zatanna is 18. Artemis and Wally are 19. Conner, Megan, and Tula are 20. Kaldur and Garth are 21.

4. Stephanie and Damian are not parts of the Gotham family, and while I love the characters, they just don't have a role in this story either. As for Tim, in the immortal words of Greg Weisman, _Spoiler Request. No comment._

5. While I'm at it I should mention that Roy, Jade, and Raquel probably won't be featured in the story. For the moment, they just don't have any real roles to play either.


End file.
